The Retainer
by TheAstronomicon
Summary: Akiyama Katsourou is a very conflicted being. He is loyal to his lord, very loyal in fact. The existential crisis is quite simple; up until recently, his lord was pinned to a tree. [I am embarking on the dreaded journey of writing an OC that isn't a Sue, I hope I get it right] Pairings to be revealed later.


Foreword: It's been about ten years since I wrote for this fandom, at least. My East Asian Studies are _crap_ , but I'm going to try and be as immersible as possible both canonically and historically. Which is going to suck… Immensely. Behold, An OC that I'm going to try to… Balance!

Anime/Big Damn Movies canon, sorry 'bout that.

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 **Retainer**

The thought did not occur to the man, at least he looked like a man, to run. On instinct his blade was in his hands, sliding into a defensive stance. Charcoal eyes flecked with bits of gold stared out from him, inflamed with defiance. "You will go no further." It was neither a challenge nor a boast, but a declaration of fact, intent clear in the tone of the words. "Stand aside, samurai." Another man spoke, his own intent clear with the glowering menace in his voice as the yari came up. The skirmish was not glorious, it was over as quickly as it had started, the samurai's body landed against a far door, the thin rice-paper and wood barrier destroyed by the force of the impact. "He'll kill you all… I hope he does." The samurai muttered as he lay dying, but a moment more passed before he was still. The second man made his way into the room, the spear still dripping with the samurai's viscous black blood. The exchange that followed, between the prone figure that the samurai had tried to defend and his conqueror was a short thing, ending with the yari driving downwards, spearing the other person.

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A man awoke screaming, his voice tearing through the silent air filled with a fear and trepidation that had come to him every time the dream of his past repeated across his mind. The birds scattered with his declaration, the early morning still black with the shades of the night, dawn was away off yet. "I've lost my mind." The man muttered to himself, begrudgingly lifting himself off of the ground. He wasn't particularly tall, nor very wide. A spry and lithe thing he stood around five and a half feet or so and had brown hair so dark it was nearly black kept up in a simple tail. "Definitely have lost my mind..." He muttered again, his voice was a gruff sound, severe and lacking in levity. He swept his dark eyes over the shadowed trees that rose around him, the majestic plants seemed to be eternal. They flickered over to the distance, he was unsure of the direction, east perhaps, it didn't matter all that much to be quite honest. No, Akiyama Katsourou thought dimly, it did not matter any longer. He lacked drive or purpose, having no lands or no lord, though technically speaking he did have a lord. The samurai sighed deeply as he tucked his swords to his waist, the katana and wakizashi were nothing more than normal steel, symbols of his status more than anything, he also had no desire to hurt his hands today, if he could help it. Frowning somewhat he walked out from the cover of the trees and the forest, taking in the morning air in such ways that only someone utterly alone could. His eyes closed and his breath caught on the dew filled mist, it was refreshing. There was no smell of blood on the air for a change. "What, they stopped killing each other? Finally." Talking to himself, he found, kept him marginally sane. He slid his feet into his sandals before taking a step away from where he slept the night before. His lord would have probably chastised him for sleeping on the ground, sleeping trees had never appealed to him, however, he rolled around far too much for that.

Though, the thought occurred to him darkly, what his lord thought didn't matter at the moment. He tossed a glance back to the trees, different from the ones he was thinking about, yet all plants were similar to one another. "I am sorry, my lady." He whispered that, clear and concise, not a mutter to his own thoughts. "I am so very sorry I failed you, that I failed your lord husband." He sighed, clearly not at peace with the thoughts that ran through his head as he stood there over looking a shallow valley. "I really hate magic." The samurai uttered to the winds, it was magic of some sort, bewitchment or affection or any number of guises that magic took that had deprived him of his reason in life, it didn't leave him bitter, persay. It left him listless, without a purpose. "I'm not cut out to be a ronin." He'd said that day, at the foot of that tree so far away, yet here he was, so far away, a ronin.

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Afterword: If you made it this far I thank you immensely for putting up with the shortness of the introduction.

A Yari is a Japanese spear, if I recall correctly it comes in a few variations that tend to decide blade count.

Zori are sandals similar in nature to flipflops worn by both men and women of the era (and still today if they're traditionalists).

I'm pretty sure everyone knows what a katana is, the wakizashi is a blade that serves as a badge of office for a samurai, shorter than the katana it is kept on their persons at all times.

Chapter One will be longer, and I hope, better.

If you read this, all of it, do me a favor please, leave a review.


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